I write this in the first week of January, for the first time reflecting on the year that was while sitting by a fireplace. The warmth reaches my hands first, then settles slowly into my shoulders. It is a temperature that feels almost unfamiliar—despite years spent abroad, or perhaps because of them. I notice how my body responds before my mind does, how comfort can feel surprising when you haven’t realized how long you’ve been without it.

Looking back on 2025 from this quiet place, I feel less compelled to measure the year by outcomes and more inclined to remember how it unfolded. What stays with me most is gratitude—for people, for timing, for moments that could never have been scheduled. Families, in all their forms, across nationalities and geographies, anchored the year. Some were lifelong; others appeared briefly but meaningfully. Together they reminded me that belonging is not confined to one country or one language. It is built through care, consistency, and shared presence.

There were random, serendipitous moments in 2025 that shifted everything. Encounters that began casually and evolved into collaborations. Invitations accepted without overthinking. Paths crossed simply because they did. These moments reinforced something I continue to relearn: not everything important arrives through strategy. Some of the most meaningful turns came when I allowed space for chance, when I followed curiosity instead of certainty.

I am deeply thankful for breakthroughs in research and work—milestones that once felt abstract and slowly became real. Progress was not always linear, but it was honest. Opportunities emerged through trust and shared belief, and I do not take lightly the privilege of being able to explore ideas, to ask questions, and to contribute to something larger than myself. I am grateful for the people who challenged me, supported me, and walked alongside me through uncertainty.

Celebration, too, shaped the year in both quiet and expansive ways. There were large gatherings and visible milestones, but also smaller rituals that felt just as significant. A meal cooked together. A conversation that stretched late into the night. A pause taken simply because it was needed. What mattered most was not the scale of the celebration, but the presence of those who mattered. Time spent together—intentionally, imperfectly—became the true marker of joy.

Seeing and experiencing both the new and the familiar gave 2025 its texture. New places expanded my sense of possibility; familiar ones reminded me who I was before I knew how much I could change. Returning—whether to a place, a tradition, or a version of myself—felt different this time. Familiarity did not mean stagnation. It meant depth.

Now, as 2026 begins—the Year of the Horse—I feel a quiet readiness. The horse represents movement, strength, and endurance, but also freedom. I look forward to a year defined not by speed, but by momentum with intention. By choosing when to move quickly and when to stand still. By trusting the direction even when the full path is not yet visible.

Sitting by this fireplace, warmed by something that once felt distant, I realize how much has shifted. If 2025 was a year of gratitude and discovery, I hope 2026 will be a year of trust—trust in relationships, in work, and in the steady unfolding of what matters most.